


“I don’t want to break up.”

by adotham (Bates)



Series: Tumblr prompts [7]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Eliza pretty much saves the day, F/M, Letters, M/M, Mentions of Nightmares, Polyamory, Pregancy, Some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 10:03:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6075102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bates/pseuds/adotham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander Hamilton finds out about Eliza's pregnancy and realizes that with this, the lying has to stop. Eliza will not stand to see her husband break off what she knows makes both John and Alexander content, so she intervenes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	“I don’t want to break up.”

**Author's Note:**

> _(Featuring what would be musical canon(ish) but with elements of their historical backgrounds, Hamilton/Eliza, pregancy, polyamory, angst with some fluff, mentions of nightmares, mentions of John Laurens's wife and daughter)_

The fireplace was burning in the background, but Alexander barely registered it. He was lost in thought, stuck somewhere between the letter he was writing and what he’d heard earlier that day. The news that even though it shouldn’t change anything, changed everything. He ought to be happy. His wife was pregnant, they’d have a little baby boy or girl to welcome into this world. This was _his chance_  to become what his parents never quite managed. _A father_. Just the thought brought tears to his eyes.

After the weeks upon weeks of death and slaughter, this was hope, a purpose; something to build a country for. After Eliza had told him, he’d pulled her close and just held her, her head resting on his shoulder. This he had missed, her warmth, the comfort she brought with. The soft swell of her belly as she leaned into him. He’d been gone for so long, he’d already missed so much.

Yet something was bothering him, there was something he needed to do. Alexander didn’t want to do this, he really didn’t. What he had going on with Laurens – his last name had too easily slipped in as a nickname, a term of endearment – was something he didn’t want to lose. Something he didn’t want to lose but was forced to do.

“Alexander?” He looked up to his wife standing in the door, leaning against the frame. “It’s late, come to bed.” He should probably write the letter tomorrow when he’d figured it all out himself. When he knew how he felt himself. Maybe, in thinking, he’d find a way to make this work without calling it off. _Nobody needs to know._

“I’ll come in a second,” he promised. “I just need to clean up in here. Put things away.”

“Have you written to John yet?” Eliza had a small smile on her lips, a hint of knowing. He only now realized she was already in her night dress. Without the corset, the fabric fell accentuating her belly more. Alexander thought it might be his new favorite thing. One day, she’d be rounder, the child bigger. Would he be able to feel it when they moved? The little boy to which he could show the world? A little girl to teach the piano and show how beautiful intelligence could be? “Told him the news?”

“I’m trying to.” His quill hovered over the page. There were so many words he needed to write, so many thoughts to bring to paper and so little time.

“Try again in the morning. It’s dark out.” She’d come closer, had one hand resting on his shoulder. Almost subconsciously he leaned into her touch. “He’ll be excited for you, Alexander.”

“I know.” A small smile tugged at his lips as he laced his fingers through Eliza’s. Oh, the wonderful things he’d witnessed those hands doing. Playing the piano gently, wiping tears from the eyes of a little boy they’d ran into, shaking hands with her father and combing his hair out of his eyes. Soon, they’d be holding a little baby, wiping away their tears and dressing them. He already knew, with one glance, that they’d be as gentle as they could while doing it.

“Wait until tomorrow,” she said again, lips pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “I’ve got a surprise for you at noon.” How on earth had he been blessed with a wife as understanding as he was? “Come now, the bed is getting cold without you.”

“I’ll be right there. Go on ahead.” He pressed a kiss to her hand. “I’m putting my ink away and changing and I’ll be there.”

 

* * *

 

Alexander had nightmares. He’d always had them after the first battle. His worst dreams had become the truth some of those days. Some nights, it was his battalion getting slaughtered and there being nothing he could do. Those days, he’d feel the blood cling to his skin when he woke up.

Other times and more commonly, it was the face of Laurens and the tears in his eyes, the fear during the duel. That one glance at him and the nod, as if to say _if this goes bad, farewell._ As if Laurens had been saying goodbye to him right there and then. _If this is my death, we had fun._ Laurens had pulled through, but in his dreams he never did. _This is my death and Alexander, I loved you_.

Yet tonight, with Eliza pulled close to him for the very first time he didn’t dream. For the very first time, he slept soundly close to his wife’s side and with his hand resting on her belly. Part of him hoped he could feel the child move under his fingers. He’d pressed a gentle kiss to the skin there, whispered that he’d make the world safe and sound for them. Eliza had laughed at that, warm and rich.

 _He loved her_. He really did, with all of his heart. But there was the affection and love for John Laurens too. How could he love them both? How could he share his affection with them all? He couldn’t.

It was why he’d have to say goodbye to Laurens.

 _This is my death and Alexander, I loved you_. Those words he’d always been afraid to accept, those words that still send a flood of panic running through Alexander’s chest. Accepting that what he’d grown to feel for Laurens was one thing, saying it out loud was never something they’d done. _‘I love you’_ were words that didn’t apply to them.

What applied was, ‘ _I’ll go into the duel for you_ ’ and _‘please be safe’_. It was told in ‘ _my wife is fond of you_ ’ and ‘ _I hope you’ll be lucky and meet a wife who is both as passionate and as kind’_. Sure, it was told in drunken nights and running the streets laughing. It was told in the way Laurens had put a hand on his shoulder and lead him away from the last battle they’d seen together. And partially in the way they used their names.

Alexander was Alexander to everyone. Sometimes, to Eliza he was darling or Alex. Yet, to Laurens he was Ham or Hamilton. Others would be hurt with it, feel like they were being belittled, but to him it wasn’t. He could count the times he’d called him John on one hand. Laurens was Laurens. Laurens was the guy with a heart of gold and a will to fight every battle that was placed in his path. With a heart reserved for his wife Martha, their three-year-old daughter Frances and perhaps, partially for him as well.

It was told in the trust they had for each other. The trust Alexander had that John could end slavery and help bring peace to a country they were now building. Building for Frances and for his and Eliza’s unborn child.

* * *

 

Alexander was in his study, writing again when two sets of footsteps made it up to his room. He’d been distracted enough to notice it, something rare and seldom. The letter was long and winding and he still hadn’t said what he was supposed to say. He still hadn’t said the word to eventually end their relationship.

“Alexander? We have company. Can he come in or are you busy?” She was smiling again; smiling as if she was up to something. Even with the little time he’d spend with his wife in the past couple of weeks and months, he knew this expression.

“Of course.” _Finally a break._ “Let him in.” He folded the letter closed, ink bottle put on top of it. Whoever it was had no claim to know the contents of the letter. This one was private, important to none but him and John Laurens. Not even Eliza could read it, he was too afraid of what she’d think, how disgusted she’d be with him.

“Hello, Ham.” Alexander jerked his head to the door in a matter of minutes. _Laurens_.

“I’ll leave you guys to talk. Want me to bring up tea?”

“That would be wonderful, misses Hamilton.” Laurens was ever so polite, even though he ought to know that Eliza had already accepted him in his heart. That Eliza was already fond enough of him to let him call her Eliza or Elisabeth.

“Please, Eliza,” she said with a smile, “a good friend of Alexander is a good friend of mine. I’ll bring it right up.” She threw him a small smile and a nod before leaving the room, leaving John and him to just look at each other.

It was hard not to grin when he was looking at him like that: as if he’d missed him. As if he’d longed for them to meet in real life again after weeks of nothing but letters. Oh god, he had done the same. To see this grinning man stand in front of him again, coat half unbuttoned even though it was too warm with the fireplace lit.

“Alex.” He threw him an expectant grin as if he wanted to ask, ' _is it safe or will your wife walk in on us?'_ Alexander just nodded, nerves tangling up his insides.

Three strides and he was there, hands resting on his hips. It was not the same as holding Eliza; Eliza was softer and gentler, pliant under his fingers. John was lean, battlefield rations skinny, skin strung tightly over bones. Once, Alexander had spent an entire night mapping that skin with his fingers. It had been bliss. It had been scary, exhausting. If anyone had walked in that night, they would have been done for, but God had taken pity on them and granted them one last moment of peace before battles became more aggressive and more people died.

“I missed you.” Alexander kissed the words away. He didn’t want to hear this. He didn’t, truthfully didn’t. Reading it in letters had been like a knife to the heart. He knew that sadness. He knew that sense of loss having a lover far away meant. He’d lived it. “Really missed you.”

“We need to talk John.” He sprung back as if burned, face worried. “Take a seat.”

“Alexander?” Hearing him use his full name almost was worse than the words he was about to say. “What is going on?”

“I need to be able to provide for my child.” He spoke looking at the ground. _He didn’t want to be this way. He didn’t want to say it._ “I cannot. I cannot raise a son or daughter and know that I’m keeping things from them like we have been. Eliza. I cannot do this to her.” He thought of her smile, gentle nod. “We don’t have more than a night together. I…I like you, like you a lot. I just.” He was at a loss for words. The great writer Alexander Hamilton was at a loss for words.

“She knows.” Laurens’s hand was rougher, toughened with the years of handling guns. It was different than Eliza’s touches. Rougher, more functional. Even now. But oh it was reassuring “Why do you think I’m here, Alexander? She wrote to me, asked me to come. She found your -  _our_ letters. You always said she was a remarkable woman.“

He had, so many times. Perhaps it was wrong, talking to one lover about the love he held for another, but it was the truth. He admired each of them, for different reasons. He shouldn’t. A man wasn’t allowed to love more than one, admire more than one. Not when they were married.

“Alexander. Have you never wondered if Martha was suspicious of all the letters? We’re as much of a family, the entirety of us.” Laurens laughed, warm. It was the laugh he reserved for Frances and her baby days. “To Frances, you are uncle Alex. They know, Ham. They know. Martha doesn’t agree, but she knows it, _this_ , makes me happy.” He bit his lip, hand squeezing his. “Eliza told me, that she found the first draft of your letter. Of your plan. She told me to do my best to stop you.” Hands tipped his head up, to look right at the red tinted eyes of the person he’d perhaps never fall out of love with. _Uncle Alex._ It was something. Something his heart warmed up at. “I will not let you end something that is as alive as our affection for each other Ham.”

Would this be their chance? Would Eliza’s unborn child one day call her father’s other lover uncle John?

“Are you sure?” He didn’t know his wife as well as he thought he did. “That she’s okay?”

“Alex. She told me she wouldn’t let you grow cold for the loss of a lover.” A small smile stretched across his lips. “She won’t stand for your stupid decisions, not if she can prevent you losing something you cherish.”

“Can I kiss you?” He was overcome with the urge to. The joy running through his veins was something he hadn’t taken into account, it hadn’t been in the set of possibilities for tonight.

“Always.” It was nothing but a gentle press of lips, Laurens running his fingers through the hair at the base of his neck and one hand resting on his knee. “You’ll always be able to.”

It was then that the door opened and Eliza appeared, _knowing_. He needed to talk with his wife, talk this through with her. If she wasn’t sure, if she wasn’t okay. He couldn’t betray her trust, not like that.

“Please tell me you invited our guest to dinner,” she said with a small smile on her lips. “He’s come an awfully long way not to stay.”

“I’d love to misses-.” Eliza looked at him sternly, silencing him with nothing but a gaze. “I’d love to, Eliza. If there’s plenty.”

“For someone who cares as much about my husband as you, there is always a spot at the table. I’d be delighted if you’d bring your wife and daughter one day.”

“It can be arranged. I’m sure they’d love to meet you, and the one on the way. Congratulations to you again.” Alexanders’s heart felt like it would burst out of his chest. _This was family._

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! ;u; My first delve into some period lams fanfiction or fanfiction for Hamilton, I hope it didn't disappoint. 
> 
> If you'd like to reblog or check it out on tumblr, you can find it [right here](http://confusedjimmy.tumblr.com/post/139621294865/ham-and-laurens-23). ♥ Thank you for reading!


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